


Something Between

by piratesPencil



Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Dragon's Edge (How to Train Your Dragon), Dragons, First Kiss, M/M, Thor Bonecrusher - Freeform, lots of dragon shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piratesPencil/pseuds/piratesPencil
Summary: Fishlegs wasn’t sure when things had changed. Was it after the whole Thor Bonecrusher debacle, which he still only remembered vaguely? Was it after he’d asked for Snotlout’s help to handle the beast on Dark Deep? Or was it a combination of everything, of spending so many long days and weeks on Dragon’s Edge with only Snotlout for company?
Relationships: Fishlegs Ingerman/Snotlout Jorgenson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 76





	1. Change

**Author's Note:**

> I watched the Big Man on Berk episode of Race to the Edge and immediately started writing this fic...

Fishlegs wasn’t sure when things had changed. Was it after the whole Thor Bonecrusher debacle, which he still only remembered vaguely? Was it after he’d asked for Snotlout’s help to handle the beast on Dark Deep? Or was it a combination of everything, of spending so many long days and weeks on Dragon’s Edge with only Snotlout for company?

Oh, sure, there was Hiccup and Astrid and the twins and even the dragons, and Fishlegs spent time with all of them, too. But Hiccup was always busy with whatever it was that Hiccup got up to (there was always _something_ ), and Astrid was usually by his side. And the twins were… the twins. Fishlegs could only spend so much time with the twins before he started to question his own sanity. And as much as he loved spending time with Meatlug and the other dragons, spending too much time alone with them made him start to question his sanity, too.

Which left Snotlout. Back home on Berk, there were enough other people around that Fishlegs could avoid spending more time than was strictly necessary with that loud, blustering muttonhead. But on the Edge, Snotlout was all he had.

At first, Fishlegs had hated every minute he’d been forced to spend in Snotlout’s terrible company. But at some point over the months since they’d settled Dragon’s Edge, he’d stopped dreading their time together. He’d learned to trade barbs with Snotlout instead of just taking them. Instead of feeling like Snotlout’s personal verbal punching bag, Fishlegs found himself actually _enjoying_ Snotlout’s company from time to time.

But something had changed between them recently, more than just learning to tolerate each other’s company. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but he was sure that things had changed when he heard a knock on the door of his hut one night, and got up to find Snotlout standing in his doorway, arms crossed, Hookfang hanging back a few feet behind him.

“Uh… Snotlout? Is everything okay?” Fishlegs asked. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to rub the sleep from them. The moon shone high and silver in the sky behind Snotlout. It was definitely the middle of the night. Fishlegs had only heard Snotlout knocking because Meatlug could be a light sleeper at times, and the knocking had woken her up first.

“Uh, yeah, everything’s fine,” Snotlout scoffed. He rolled his eyes, like Fishlegs was stupid for even considering that something might be wrong, as though Snotlout just showed up at people’s huts in the middle of the night for fun all the time.

“Alright, well, then… goodnight?” Fishlegs said, starting to close the door on Snotlout. He might not hate the guy’s company, but he’d given up on trying to figure him out.

“Wait!” Snotlout said, throwing out his hand to stop Fishlegs from closing the door on him.

Fishlegs raised an eyebrow, and waited.

“It’s… cold. In my hut. You know, west-facing windows and all that,” Snotlout said, his voice dropping to a mumble by the end.

“Um… I don’t think your hut is west-facing,” Fishlegs said, trying to pull up a mental map of the Edge’s layout. “And, come to think of it, I don’t think west-facing buildings are especially cold? And your dragon is kind of a personal space heater, so—”

“I’m cold, Fishface,” Snotlout said, flatly, meeting Fishlegs’ eyes. “Can I come in?”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Fishlegs almost opened his mouth to protest, but then he realized that he didn’t _want_ to protest. He wanted Snotlout to come in.

Something had _definitely_ changed.

“Sure,” Fishlegs finally said, and stepped aside.

Snotlout snorted. “Jeez, took you long enough. Where’s the hospitality?”

He stepped inside, and Hookfang followed, squeezing his huge frame through the doorway.

Fishlegs’ hut wasn’t particularly big, and a dragon as huge as Hookfang took up a lot of space, but Meatlug didn’t seem to mind shuffling over to make room for him on the floor beside Fishlegs’ bed. Back on Berk, Meatlug had always seemed pretty ambivalent towards Hookfang, but the more time Fishlegs and Snotlout spent together, the more their dragons seemed to get along.

So Hookfang and Meatlug happily curled up together on the floor, nuzzling like kittens. Snotlout joined them on the floor, leaning back against Hookfang’s flank.

“Ah, much better,” Snotlout said, crossing his arms behind his head and immediately closing his eyes.

Fishlegs stood above him, eyebrow raised. “Why are you here, Snotlout?”

Snotlout cracked one eye open and scowled up at Fishlegs. “I told you. I was cold. Your hut is way warmer.”

He closed his eyes again and settled in against Hookfang, as though that was all there was to say on the matter.

“Oookay,” Fishlegs said, retreating back towards his bed. He grabbed his blanket and paused. Should he offer the blanket to Snotlout? Maybe he really was just cold. Maybe Fishlegs was overthinking it. Maybe…

“Are you really just going to sleep on the floor?” Fishlegs said. He had his back to Snotlout, still looking down at his bed, blanket clutched in one hand.

“Where else am I going to sleep?” Snotlout asked.

Fishlegs could feel his heart pounding in his throat. He couldn’t believe his own words even as he spoke them. “The bed is way more comfortable. And warmer.”

Fishlegs waited, and Snotlout didn’t answer. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe Fishlegs was being weird. Oh, Thor, hopefully Snotlout didn’t go around telling everyone about this tomorrow morning. He’d never live it down.

Without another word, Fishlegs crawled into his bed, pulling his blanket up around his shoulders. Maybe Snotlout was already asleep. He’d seen the guy conk out almost instantly before, after a big meal around the fire.

And then Fishlegs heard the floorboards of his hut creak. He held his breath, didn’t move at all as he heard Snotlout stand up and cross the short distance between the dragons and the bed. He felt the wooden slats of his bed creak and shift, felt the blanket lift slightly as Snotlout crawled into the bed beside him.

They both lay perfectly still for a long moment, back to back, with only the sounds of their breathing and their dragons’ snores filling the hut.

Then Snotlout shifted slightly, pulling the blanket more snugly around himself. “Yeah, this is definitely warmer,” he said. And that was that.

Everything had changed.

* * *

“This definitely looks like a Whispering Death hole,” Fishlegs mused, walking around the perimeter of the deep pit that had appeared overnight. “And it’s _way_ too close to our huts for comfort… If this Whispering Death comes back and brings some friends, they might take all of our buildings down.”

“We can’t let that happen,” Hiccup said, his face creased with worry.

“Uh, you think?” Snotlout said, arms crossed. “I’m not letting some stupid Whispering Death eat _my_ hut.”

“Even though it’s west-facing?” Fishlegs said, grinning slightly.

Snotlout’s face immediately flamed red. “Shut _up_ , Fishface,” he snapped.

Fishlegs shrugged innocently. “I don’t know. I’ve just heard that west-facing huts tend to be cold. Maybe the Whispering Death would be doing you a favour, taking it out?”

“I _said_ , shut up!” Snotlout shouted, reaching over to punch Fishlegs none-too-gently in the shoulder.

Fishlegs just laughed and shoved Snotlout back, which sent the smaller Viking stumbling into Hookfang. That was something else that Snotlout had inadvertently taught Fishlegs—how to throw his weight around, in both a metaphorical and literal sense.

“Um… I don’t think Snotlout’s hut _is_ west-facing…” Hiccup said, giving the two of them a confused look.

“Everybody, _shut up_ ,” Snotlout shouted. He grabbed one of Hookfang’s horns and swung himself up into the dragon’s saddle. “While you losers stand around talking, _I’m_ going to go look for this Whispering Muttonhead before he eats all of our homes, _no matter what direction they’re facing_.”

With that, Snotlout and Hookfang took off into the sky. Fishlegs watched them go, grinning.

“What was _that_ about?” Astrid asked, coming up beside Fishlegs.

“Oh, nothing,” Fishlegs said, still grinning.

* * *

Snotlout stood outside Fishlegs’ hut, hesitating. Part of him couldn’t believe that he was going to do this again, after the big lumbering idiot had tried to _humiliate_ him in front of everyone that morning.

He told himself that was _why_ he was back, though. To prove to Fishlegs that he couldn’t be so easily deterred. He wasn’t _embarrassed_.

This was a battle of wills, and Snotlout was a _master_ of wills. He was the strongest willer, the most—

“Oof. Hookfang! Watch it!” Snotlout snapped, stumbling forward as Hookfang nudged him towards Fishlegs’ door. “Don’t rush me!”

Hookfang just snorted and shoved him again.

“Okay, okay!” Snotlout said. He reached up, his fist inches from Fishlegs’ door—and then the door opened before Snotlout even had a chance to knock.

“Oh,” Snotlout said, letting his hand drop to his side. “Uh. Hi.”

Fishlegs raised his eyebrows, looking down at Snotlout. Why was Fishface so damn _tall_?

“Is there a reason why you were standing outside my hut in the middle of the night and shouting at your dragon?” Fishlegs asked.

“Uh… I was cold again?” Suddenly, his excuse sounded even more pathetic than it had last night. Stupid, stupid Snotlout. He should have come up with something better. He should have—

Fishlegs shrugged and stepped back, motioning for Snotlout to follow him inside. “Okay,” he said.

Snotlout almost didn’t trust him. Was it really going to be this easy?

He followed Fishlegs into his hut, Hookfang on his heels. He’d expected Fishlegs to be asleep like he had been the night before, but when he stepped inside it became clear that Fishlegs had been awake. A lantern sat on the little desk in the corner of the hut, glowing softly. Piles of books and papers were strewn across the desk, and the Dragon’s Eye was balanced on the edge of it next to where Meatlug sat, as though she’d been lighting it up moments before.

“Whoa. Late-night study sesh?” Snotlout asked. He touched the edge of a page, covered in notes written in that scribbly runic language that Snotlout could never figure out.

“Trying to figure out what to do about these Whispering Deaths,” Fishlegs said, sweeping some of his papers into a less messy pile.

They’d spent the day searching for the Whispering Death that had made the pit outside their base, but they’d come up dry. They’d all gone to bed somewhat tense, worried about a second attack.

“It’s weird that there was only one hole. Usually, Whispering Deaths leave a whole network of tunnels behind, even if there’s only one dragon. So I thought, what if it’s _not_ a Whispering Death? But I can’t think of anything else that would make a hole like that, so I thought maybe—”

Snotlout reached up and clapped a hand over Fishlegs’ mouth.

“Save the theorizing for Hiccup,” Snotlout said. “I get the point. Whispering Death bad, problem big, we’ll deal with it in the morning.”

Fishlegs glared down at Snotlout, but in the light of the lantern, it almost looked like Fishlegs was… blushing?

Snotlout pulled his hand away hastily and turned towards the bed.

“I think that’s a bit of an oversimplification,” Fishlegs said from behind him. “But I guess getting some sleep couldn’t hurt.”

“Exactly,” Snotlout said, crossing the room and crawling into Fishlegs’ bed as if it was no big deal. “Sleep now, dragon problems later.”

He heard Fishlegs dousing the lantern, and then the hut was thrown into darkness, lit only by the moonlight streaming in through the windows. Then he heard Fishlegs cross the room, felt him crawl into bed beside him.

“G’night,” Fishlegs said, his broad, warm back pressed against Snotlout’s.

“’Night,” Snotlout said softly, his voice almost catching in his throat.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He was usually _great_ at flirting. Just because Astrid never appreciated his skills, that didn’t mean he didn’t have them, thank you very much. He’d never been shy about wearing his crushes on his sleeve, and he figured the main reason he’d never gotten so much as a first kiss was because of his lack of viable options on Berk.

It wasn’t just the girls. Snotlout had always been attracted to _strength,_ not gender. But the twins were… the _twins_ , and flirting with either of them would have felt like flirting with a couple of particularly stupid sheep. Hiccup was his cousin, and even if they hadn’t been related, Snotlout would never have stooped so low as to flirt with that noodly disaster of a Viking. And until recently, Fishlegs had been even _more_ pathetic than Hiccup, if that was possible.

Everyone else on Berk was either too old or too young, which left Astrid as the sole recipient of Snotlout’s devotion and adoration. Oh, sure, he’d tried his luck with Heather, and with the occasional son or daughter of an allied chief who visited Berk for a treaty signing or a celebration, but for most of their youth, it had always been Astrid. Beautiful, blonde Astrid, who knew her way around an axe better than anyone, who could probably kill Snotlout with her bare hands if she wanted to—and he would let her, just to see the beauty of her strength in action.

Of course, deep down, some part of Snotlout had always known that he didn’t have a chance in Helheim with Astrid. She had always been too good for him. And as the years passed, it became more and more obvious that she had eyes only for a certain noodly disaster of a Viking.

And maybe that’s why it was easy to flirt with Astrid. Because he knew nothing would ever really come of it. The few times that Astrid had ever hinted at returning Snotlout’s affections, even in jest, it had always freaked him out.

Flirting was easy. Thinking about something as real as a _date_ , let alone a _relationship_ , was territory that Snotlout didn’t know how to handle.

So maybe that’s why Snotlout was lying silently next to Fishlegs, listening to the other Viking’s slow, sleeping breaths, instead of crowing loudly and publicly at Fishlegs about his beautiful muscles and unparalleled bravery.

Whatever this was with Fishlegs, it had definitely started with that stupid Thor Bonecrusher stunt. When Snotlout had suggested hypnotizing Fishlegs into becoming the perfect Viking, it had mostly been a joke. He’d known that Hiccup would never let him do it, and he hadn’t expected his silly suggestions to make their way into Fishlegs’ unconscious mind.

But when Fishlegs had woken up strong, agile, boastful and insanely brave, Snotlout had gotten butterflies the likes of which he hadn’t had since the first time Astrid threw her axe at his head. Thor Bonecrusher was _perfect_.

Alright, maybe perfect was a bit of an exaggeration. Bonecrusher’s boastful stories had gotten a _little_ annoying after a while, and Snotlout could admit that his unrelenting bravery had been more than a little unnerving.

But that whole debacle had irreversibly changed that way Snotlout saw Fishlegs. Sure, Thor Bonecrusher had been the result of some dubiously advised hypnotism, but everything that Fishlegs had done as Bonecrusher had still been _Fishlegs_. Instead of an awkward, pudgy teenager, Snotlout saw Fishlegs as he really was—a huge, powerful Viking, who could wield a weapon with deadly precision, who could ride a bucking Scauldron single-handedly, who could probably crush a man’s skull with his bare hands if he wanted to, and who was smart enough to know when to use his strength and when to retreat, which was a quality that Snotlout thought the other riders were sorely lacking.

So maybe Snotlout’s crush on Bonecrusher had turned into a genuine crush on Fishlegs. He’d come up with a thousand different scenarios in his head—ways he could impress Fishlegs, ways he could get him alone, ways he could convince the other Viking that Snotlout was worth his time.

And the part that scared Snotlout the most was that it seemed like it was _working_. Sure, they traded teasing barbs. Sure, sometimes Fishlegs got under his skin when he was being particularly nerdy and pathetic. But Fishlegs was no Astrid.

After all, if Snotlout had shown up outside Astrid’s hut in the middle of the night, mumbling about his cold west-facing hut, she would have picked him up and chucked him back in his own hut herself.

She wouldn’t have invited him inside. She wouldn’t have invited him into her _bed_ , so casually, as though it was nothing at all. She wouldn’t have let him come back the next night.

But Fishlegs had, and Snotlout didn’t know what to do about it.

Beside him, Fishlegs shifted slightly in his sleep, and then rolled over. In the narrow space of the bed, they were almost spooning. Snotlout held his breath, terrified that Fishlegs would wake up and pull away from him.

But Fishlegs’ breath stayed slow and sleepy, and eventually Snotlout relaxed, letting himself lean back against Fishlegs’ warm form.

Snotlout had no idea what to do about any of this, but he definitely wasn’t going to stop.

* * *

“So, if it wasn’t a Whispering Death, what was it? Some guy with a big shovel?” Snotlout said, leaning over Hookfang’s horns to stare down into the pit.

“Actually, you might not be that far off, Snotlout,” Fishlegs said. He slid off of Meatlug’s back to approach the side of the pit.

“I’m _not_?” Snotlout asked incredulously.

“Well, not a guy with a shovel, but another dragon using their jaws or their wings like a shovel,” Fishlegs said.

“Can other dragons do that?” Hiccup asked, coming up beside Fishlegs.

“Uh, obviously they _can_ , Hiccup. Fishlegs just said so,” Snotlout said, crossing his arms with a scoff.

Hiccup and Fishlegs shot him matching incredulous looks, and Snotlout shrank back slightly. “What? He did.”

“Um, okay… So what are you saying, Fishlegs? There are other dragons that dig tunnels like this?” Hiccup said.

“Well, I couldn’t find any specific mentions of other dragons digging holes like Whispering Deaths,” Fishlegs admitted. “But there _are_ mentions of some species of dragons imitating the habitats or nests of other dragons, as a way of claiming territory.”

“So you think some other kind of dragon dug this pit to stop another Whispering Death from taking this land?” Hiccup said.

“It’s just a theory,” Fishlegs said. “But I can’t figure out why else a Whispering Death would only dig a single hole.”

Hiccup nodded, walking around the rim of the pit thoughtfully. “It makes sense,” he said. “Toothless and I went down there yesterday when you guys were out looking for signs of the Whispering Death. The hole was pretty deep, but it didn’t connect to any other tunnels underground, and it was empty.”

Fishlegs nodded. “But if I’m right, the question is… what dragon did this? And why did they need to keep a Whispering Death out?”

“Hmm… could a Scauldron do this with its jaws?” Hiccup mused. “Or maybe a Typhoomerang could use its wings to—”

“ _Guyssss…_ ” Snotlout groaned, looking down at them from Hookfang’s saddle. “It was obviously the Night Terrors.”

“What?” Hiccup and Fishlegs’ gazes snapped back up to Snotlout, giving him those matching incredulous looks again.

“What? The Night Terrors can imitate other dragons, and they obviously want to protect us,” Snotlout said. “Done and done, mystery solved.”

Hiccup and Fishlegs stared at him for such a long moment that Snotlout started to worry that he’d said something truly stupid. He was almost ready to backtrack when Hiccup’s face split into a wide grin.

“Snotlout, I think you might have actually said something smart for once,” Hiccup said.

“Hey! I say smart things all the time,” Snotlout snapped.

“He does, you know,” Fishlegs said, and it was Snotlout’s turn to join Hiccup in giving Fishlegs an incredulous look.

“What?” Fishlegs said, holding his hands up defensively. “He does! Say smart stuff. Pretty frequently.”

Hiccup glanced between Fishlegs and Snotlout, brow furrowed, like he was trying to figure out some important piece of information that he’d missed. Then he shook his head and turned to Toothless.

“Okay, guys, let’s go find Astrid and the twins, and tell them they can call off the Whispering Death hunt.”

Hiccup and Toothless took off into the sky, but Snotlout waited until Fishlegs had swung himself up into Meatlug’s saddle.

“Thanks, for that,” Snotlout said as they took off side by side.

Fishlegs shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it. You can be smart. Sometimes.”

“ _Sometimes_?” Snotlout scoffed.

“Yeah. Sometimes.” He looked over at Snotlout and grinned, and Snotlout’s heart immediately began pounding against his ribcage so hard he was afraid Fishlegs might hear it.

“Okay,” Snotlout managed to say. “I’ll take _sometimes_.” Somehow, that _sometimes_ felt like the best compliment in the world.


	2. Choice

With the threat of a Whispering Death attack no longer weighing on them, life went back to normal, or as normal as it ever was on the Edge. They went on scouting missions, searching for new dragons or for enemy ships. They continued building up the island’s defenses. They visited Berk, made sure their families and friends back home were still in one piece.

Fishlegs and Hiccup continued to study the Dragon Eye. It seemed like the well of information in that little thing never dried up.

But Fishlegs could admit that he was distracted. Studying and theorizing with Hiccup couldn’t quite hold his attention. Whenever the chance came up, he’d volunteer to go on patrol with Snotlout, or to train with Snotlout, or to clean out the dragon stables with Snotlout, or to take night watch with Snotlout.

And the nights when they weren’t on watch together, they slept together in Fishlegs’ hut. Snotlout had stopped coming up with excuses to explain why he would show up in the middle of the night—he didn’t even bother to knock anymore.

He would always show up late in the night, though, after all the other riders had gone to bed or set up for night watch. Fishlegs would stay up late, trying to get some work done at his desk, waiting for Snotlout to show up.

And he _would_ show up, every night without fail, and Fishlegs would put down his work and crawl into bed beside Snotlout, with Meatlug and Hookfang curled up together on the floor.

And if Fishlegs wrapped an arm around Snotlout’s waist, if Snotlout curled up against Fishlegs’ chest, his head almost entirely under the blankets, well, it was just for warmth, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t. Fishlegs knew it wasn’t, and he knew that Snotlout knew it wasn’t, but neither of them seemed prepared to do anything more.

Fishlegs’ entire body would freeze up at the thought of—what? Holding Snotlout’s hand? _Kissing_ Snotlout?

It wasn’t because Snotlout was a boy. Fishlegs had read enough books, brought by Trader Johann from distant lands, to know that there were places in the world where same-gender couples were taboo—looked down upon or even persecuted. But that had never been an issue on Berk, or for any of their allied tribes, as far as Fishlegs knew.

Berk’s chief himself was in a committed relationship with a man. Although Stoick had never remarried after the disappearance of his wife, it was no secret that Stoick and Gobber lived as a couple, and no one would ever call Stoick anything other than a proper Viking, through and through.

No, it wasn’t that Snotlout was a boy. It was that he was _Snotlout._

Snotlout, who was loud and brash and downright annoying sometimes, but always, always the first to make a move. Of course Fishlegs had seen the way Snotlout flirted with Astrid, with Heather—loud and unapologetic. If Snotlout wanted more from Fishlegs, he’d make sure Fishlegs knew… Wouldn’t he?

“Hey, Fishface, if you’re going to force me to come along on your stupid dragon census, could you at least pay attention?”

Fishlegs jumped at the sound of Snotlout’s voice, and looked up to see the smaller Viking standing over him, arms crossed.

“Oh. Uh. Sorry. Just distracted. You know. Thinking about… dragons. So many dragons,” Fishlegs said. He stood up from where he’d sat down to spread out his maps and make some notes about the dragons in this quadrant of the island. He bundled up his papers and shoved them into Meatlug’s saddle bag haphazardly.

“So, remind me again why we’re doing _another_ dragon census? Didn’t we do one, like, a month ago?” Snotlout asked as the two of them took off back into the sky.

The truth was, they didn’t really _need_ to be doing another dragon census. Sure, Fishlegs and Hiccup liked to keep a record of which dragons shared their island, but they definitely didn’t need to do more than one or two censuses a year.

At this point, Fishlegs was just making up excuses to get Snotlout alone. He’d told a very skeptical Hiccup that he’d made some mistakes when calculating their last census, and he needed to redo parts of it. Hiccup had offered to come with him, but Fishlegs had assured him that Snotlout was developing a real interest in dragon stats and wanted to come along.

He prayed to Thor that Hiccup bought his ruse, because it was almost embarrassing that, not long ago, Fishlegs had dreaded all the time he and Snotlout were forced to spend together on the Edge, and now he was making up excuses to increase that time.

“Um, Earth to Fishlegs? If you fall off your dragon because you’re not paying attention, Hooky and I are _not_ going to catch you,” Snotlout called.

Fishlegs shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he settled himself more firmly in Meatlug’s saddle.

“Don’t lie,” he called back, looking over and meeting Snotlout’s eye. “Hookfang loves me.”

Snotlout scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

But Snotlout didn’t look away. Their eyes stayed locked, and even across the distance between their dragons, Fishlegs could see Snotlout’s cheeks turning red.

Maybe he could say something. Maybe he could just _ask_ Snotlout what he wanted, what all their nights together meant. At least, seated on their dragons in the sky, Snotlout couldn’t punch him if he said the wrong thing.

Fishlegs opened his mouth, a thousand different thoughts on the tip of his tongue. “Snotlout, I—”

“Fishlegs, watch out!”

Fishlegs turned, just in time to see the tree that he and Meatlug were barrelling towards. Not in time to avoid it, though.

“Fishlegs!”

* * *

Thor Almighty, did his head _hurt_. Fishlegs cracked his eyes open, but that made his head hurt even _more_ , so he closed them again.

“Hey. Fishlegs? Are you awake?”

Snotlout’s voice filtered past the pounding pain in Fishlegs’ head. He sounded uncharacteristically quiet, and… worried?

Fishlegs forced himself to open his eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight that filtered in between the trees above them.

“Yeah… I’m awake,” he grunted. He sat up, trying to ignore the sharp pain that shot through his head.

“Oh, thank Thor,” Snotlout said, crouching down beside Fishlegs. He put one hand on Fishlegs’ shoulder, and his touch was so much gentler than Fishlegs would have expected. It was enough to distract him from the pain in his head, enough for him to remember that he’d flown head-first into a tree.

“Is Meatlug okay?” he asked, looking around desperately.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Snotlout said, glancing over at Meatlug, who was nosing around Hookfang’s feet, trying to crawl under one of his huge wings. “Gronckle heads are harder than human heads, I think.”

Fishlegs sighed with relief. As long as his Meatlug was okay.

“But are you okay?” Snotlout asked, his face creased with worry. “You fell pretty far, and you were out of it for a while. I almost went and got Hiccup and the others, but I didn’t want to leave you alone…”

“I’m fine,” Fishlegs said, getting to his feet. Or at least, he tried to. As soon as he stood up, the pain in his head returned in full force, making him feel woozy. He took one step towards the dragons, and then suddenly he was falling.

“Whoa!” Snotlout reached out, trying to catch Fishlegs. But Fishlegs was about twice as big as Snotlout, and within seconds they were both sprawled out in the grass, Fishlegs lying half on top of Snotlout.

Behind them, Fishlegs heard the distinct chirruping sound of dragon laughter.

“Oh, sure, laugh it up, you two,” Snotlout snapped, trying to shimmy out from under Fishlegs. “You couldn’t have given me a hand? Or a wing? Or whatever?”

Fishlegs groaned and rolled over, freeing Snotlout. And then he looked over, and realized that they were lying inches apart in the grass, their faces so close that he could count every freckle on Snotlout’s face if he wanted to.

They lay frozen for a long moment, their breaths quietly in sync. It would be so easy to lean forward, just slightly, and let their lips touch. Fishlegs wanted to. He wanted to _so badly_ it almost hurt, like a weight pressing down on his chest. If only Snotlout would make the first move. If only he could be sure that Snotlout wanted this as badly as he did. If only—

The quiet forest silence was suddenly broken by the sound of four dragon riders swooping overhead. Instantly, Snotlout and Fishlegs pulled apart.

By the time Hiccup, Astrid and the twins landed beside them, Fishlegs had sat up and Snotlout was standing several feet away. But Fishlegs was sure that, from the sky, the other riders had been able to see how close they’d been lying next to each other, and he was sure his face was as red as Snotlout’s.

“We saw Hookfang’s distress shot,” Hiccup said, swinging himself off of Toothless’ back. “Are you guys okay?”

“More importantly… Are we interrupting something?” Astrid asked, smirking down at them from Stormfly’s saddle.

“No,” Fishlegs and Snotlout said in unison, looking pointedly at anything but each other.

“Ahh, a classic case of denial,” Tuffnut said, shaking his head sadly.

“A romantic comedy staple, but a pathetic sight to behold,” Ruffnut agreed.

“There is no _romantic comedy_ happening,” Snotlout snapped.

“Guys…” Hiccup said, approaching the two of them carefully, like they were wild animals that might spook and run off. “If there’s something going on between the two of you, you know you can tell us, right? We won’t judge you.”

“Well, we might judge you a _little_ bit,” Astrid said.

“Astrid!” Hiccup snapped.

“What? We’ve all noticed it. I can judge them for failing to be subtle if I want,” Astrid said.

“And for poor taste,” Ruffnut said, and Tuffnut and Astrid snorted.

“Shut _up_ ,” Snotlout said, his face even redder than before. “There is no _being subtle_ because there is _nothing happening_ between us. This idiot flew face-first into a tree and knocked himself out, and I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t _dead_. Sorry for caring about his _life_ , I guess.”

Hiccup looked unconvinced, and the others were still smirking smugly down from atop their dragons. Hiccup looked away from Snotlout to glance down at Fishlegs, who was still sitting in the grass, one hand pressed to his pounding head.

“Are you okay, Fishlegs?” he asked.

“I think I’ll be okay,” Fishlegs said. He got unsteadily to his feet, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snotlout reach for him for one worried second, and then pull away almost instantly, crossing his arms and scowling.

Fishlegs bit back a flash of disappointment, then looked back at Hiccup.

“Do you think you can fly back to the Edge?” Hiccup asked.

“I think so,” Fishlegs said, nodding slightly. “And Hiccup? There really is nothing going on between me and Snotlout. I think _everyone_ has been misreading the situation.”

“Oh, sure,” Tuffnut said.

“ _Guys_ ,” Hiccup snapped.

Fishlegs refused to meet anyone’s eyes. Through sheer force of embarrassment, he managed to stay on his feet as he made his way over to Meatlug.

“Okay,” Hiccup said. “If you think you can fly, we’ll head back to the Edge and make sure you’re all in one piece once we get there,” Hiccup said.

Fishlegs said nothing as he climbed onto Meatlug’s back and took off into the sky. He heard Hookfang take off behind him, but he didn’t look back.

* * *

Fishlegs tapped his pencil against the edge of his desk, trying to focus on the papers spread out in front of him. He’d spent the afternoon with a block of ice pressed to the side of his head, and his headache was mostly gone. After he’d promised Hiccup that he felt fine, he’d holed himself up in his hut, burying himself in his dragon studies. He wasn’t going to sit around and let Astrid and the twins give him their knowing looks.

He groaned and dropped his pencil, then leaned forward to rest his head on the desk. From this angle he could see the moon shining through his window, high in the sky. It was late. The other riders must have gone to bed hours ago.

And Snotlout still hadn’t shown up.

Fishlegs shouldn’t have been surprised. Snotlout had disappeared as soon as they’d landed at the Edge, and Fishlegs hadn’t seen him for the rest of the day. But some part of Fishlegs had still believed that what had happened that morning wouldn’t change anything, that Snotlout would still come spend the night, like every night before.

But it was late enough now that Fishlegs had to admit to himself that Snotlout wasn’t coming. He could barely keep his eyes open. He couldn’t keep waiting.

He got up from his desk, sighing deeply. Meatlug was curled up at the foot of his bed, sound asleep. He touched the top of her head gently and she only sighed softly, shifting in her sleep.

Fishlegs glanced towards his bed. It looked so big and empty without Snotlout in it. He hadn’t realized how much he’d gotten used to their nights together until he was faced with the idea of spending the night apart.

He turned away from the bed, and headed for the door instead.

* * *

A gust of cool night air made goosebumps prickle across Fishlegs’ arms. Maybe Snotlout wasn’t entirely wrong about his hut being cold.

Fishlegs took a deep breath, his hand hovering in front of Snotlout’s door. He could still turn and leave. Why was he doing this? If Snotlout had wanted to spend the night with him, he would have shown up at Fishlegs’ hut like every night before. He’d made his choice.

But maybe Fishlegs was tired of waiting for Snotlout to make all the choices.

He knocked.

For a long moment, there was no answer. Maybe Snotlout was just asleep. Or maybe he was making his choice.

Fishlegs took another deep breath, and knocked again, harder. If Snotlout didn’t answer this time, he’d leave. He’d—

The door opened.

“Jeeze, impatient much?” Snotlout grumbled.

“Sorry,” Fishlegs said automatically. Then they just stood there, blinking at each other.

Another cool breeze brushed across Fishlegs bare arms.

“It’s… cold. Can I come in?” Fishlegs asked.

Snotlout raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Someone might _misread_ the situation if I let you in.”

Fishlegs scowled. “I thought there was nothing to misread, because there’s _nothing happening between us_ , isn’t there?”

He thought Snotlout might slam the door on him. For a second, it looked like he might.

Then Snotlout’s shoulders slumped. He looked away from Fishlegs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You know I didn’t really mean that, don’t you?” he said, and his voice sounded so small, so much softer than usual.

“Not really,” Fishlegs said, and it almost hurt to admit it. “I don’t know what you _want_ , Snotlout. Why have you been coming to my hut every night?”

Snotlout hesitated, his hand still scratching the back of his neck. And then he looked up at Fishlegs, his blue eyes wide, almost desperate.

“Because I _like_ you, you muttonhead,” he said. “Okay. There. I said it. I really like you, Fishlegs, but I think I might actually be really _bad_ at flirting, at least when it counts, and I didn’t know what to do, and Hiccup caught me off-guard today, and I’m sorry, but—”

It was like Snotlout’s words were a key, like they were the last puzzle piece that Fishlegs needed to do what he’d been wanting to do for weeks now. He leaned down, wrapped an arm around Snotlout’s waist like he’d done so many nights in a row, and pressed their lips together.

It was sloppy, and awkward, and perfect. For a moment, Fishlegs thought Snotlout might pull away from him, but then Snotlout was kissing him with all of the enthusiasm that he put into everything.

If that kiss had lasted for the rest of Fishlegs’ natural life, he would have been happy, but too soon, they were pulling apart. Fishlegs kept his arm wrapped around Snotlout’s waist, and Snotlout had reached up a hand to rest it on Fishlegs’ shoulder.

“Wow,” Snotlout breathed, and Fishlegs couldn’t help but giggle at his dazed look.

“I like you, too,” Fishlegs said, just to make sure that that was clear.

Snotlout’s face broke into a dazzling grin. The hand on Fishlegs’ shoulder slid down his arm and wrapped around Fishlegs wrist, and then Snotlout was tugging him into his hut.

“Come on,” he said. “It’s cold out.”

Fishlegs returned his grin and followed him inside. He’d been in Snotlout’s hut before, of course, but somehow it felt different in the middle of the night. Not forbidden, exactly, but—exciting. Was this how Snotlout had felt every time he’d spent the night in Fishlegs hut? Why hadn’t they swapped places before?

Snotlout tugged Fishlegs towards the bed, and Fishlegs followed, his heart hammering in his chest. He noticed, vaguely, that the bed was made, or as haphazardly made as Snotlout’s bed ever was. It didn’t look slept in—maybe Snotlout hadn’t been able to sleep tonight, either.

Hookfang, curled up in a corner of the hut, raised his head and snorted as Snotlout and Fishlegs stumbled towards the bed.

“Hookfang! Go back to sleep,” Snotlout ordered, glaring at his dragon over his shoulder.

Fishlegs laughed, and then hesitated.

“Wait,” he said.

Snotlout turned to him, and the look he gave Fishlegs was so soft and betrayed that Fishlegs wanted to take his face between his hands and kiss that look right off of him.

But instead, he said, “I should go get Meatlug.”

“What?” Snotlout said incredulously. “We’re about to make out and you want to go get your dragon?”

Fishlegs’ face flamed red at Snotlout words, but he nodded. “I have to! She’ll get lonely alone in my hut all night…”

Snotlout rolled his eyes, but he laughed slightly as he said, “You two really are a package deal, aren’t you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Fishlegs said firmly, because however big his crush on Snotlout was, Meatlug would always be his number one.

“Fine,” Snotlout said, letting go of Fishlegs’ wrist reluctantly. “Man, you and that dragon are worse than the twins.”

Fishlegs shuddered. “Please never compare me to the twins.”

Snotlout grinned. “You’re right,” he said. “I’d never do this to the twins.” And then he reached up, and Fishlegs leaned down almost instinctually, and Snotlout kissed him, surprisingly gently. Fishlegs’ face flamed even redder.

“Now hurry up,” Snotlout said, pulling away. “It really does get cold in here at night.”

“I’ll be right back,” Fishlegs promised.


	3. Home

How long could it possibly take Fishlegs to get Meatlug? Sure, the Gronckle could be stubborn when she wanted to be, but even if Fishlegs had to pick her up and carry, he’d be back by now.

Snotlout paced the length of his hut, chewing at his thumbnail. Should he go check on Fishlegs? Or was that too desperate?

From the corner of the room, Hookfang raised his head and snorted at Snotlout, annoyed.

“Oh, shut up,” Snotlout snapped. “I poured my heart out to him, Hookfang. Do you know how hard that is, for a manly Viking like me? To get _sentimental_? And then he just _disappears_?”

Hookfang snorted again and then closed his eyes, dropping his head back to the floor.

“Oh, I see how it is. Tonight is _everyone trample all over Snotlout’s feelings_ night. Great, really appreciate it, buddy.”

He sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed. Had Fishlegs even intended to come back? Maybe going to get Meatlug was just an excuse to get away from Snotlout. Maybe Fishlegs had regretted the kiss as soon as it happened. Maybe the kiss had been a test, and Snotlout had failed.

Was Snotlout a bad kisser? He’d come to the realization that he was a pretty bad flirter, so maybe he was a bad kisser, too. Maybe this whole thing was a joke, some sort of prank, and the twins were sitting outside with Fishlegs right now, laughing at Snotlout for falling for it.

He lay back in his bed. He wasn’t going to go chasing after Fishlegs. He had standards. He had _dignity_. If Fishlegs didn’t want him, that was fine by him.

He grabbed his blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders, pressed his face into his pillow. He didn’t _need_ Fishlegs. He was Snotlout Jorgenson, and he didn’t need anyone.

* * *

Snotlout woke up shivering. His blanket had slipped to the floor during the night, and a cool morning breeze was sweeping in through the window.

He groaned. It was barely morning, but he knew he wouldn’t fall back asleep. At least if he got up, he could distract himself with food.

He stood up, grabbed his helmet from where it was hooked over his bedpost. Then he stopped. What if Fishlegs was awake, too? He didn’t know if he could look the other boy in the eye after what had happened last night, after Fishlegs had—what? Stood him up?

He shook his head to clear it and jammed on his helmet.

“No,” he said firmly. “Fishface doesn’t own this island. Come on, Hooky. Breakfast.”

His dragon got up slowly, yawned hugely, and then padded over to follow Snotlout to the clubhouse.

It was empty when they got there. Everyone was probably still asleep, except maybe Astrid, who was usually out running drills with Stormfly this early.

Snotlout considered just grabbing some food and heading back to his hut, but before he had a chance to take that coward’s route, Hiccup and Toothless appeared in the doorway.

“Oh, hey, Snotlout. You’re up early,” Hiccup said, looking surprised.

“Yeah, so?” Snotlout said defensively. He took a big bite of the yak jerky he was holding, just for something to do.

“Okay, well, have you seen Fishlegs?” Hiccup asked.

Snotlout almost choked on his jerky. He swallowed down the half-chewed lump, and then glared at Hiccup. “Why? Am I his dad now?”

He regretted his choice of words as soon as they were out of his mouth—his face flamed red as the memory of last night came flooding back to him, and he hoped that Hiccup was standing too far away from him to notice.

Hiccup just shrugged, though. “I was just wondering. I went to his hut this morning because I had a new idea for the saddle modifications we’ve been planning but he wasn’t there.”

Snotlout blanched. What if Snotlout _had_ gone to Fishlegs’ hut last night and Hiccup had walked in on them curled up in Fishlegs’ bed together? Oh, Thor, they’d been playing with fire these past few weeks, hadn’t they?

Then Snotlout’s stomach sank as he fully registered Hiccup’s words.

“Wait… he wasn’t home?” Snotlout repeated.

“Yeah.” Hiccup came up beside Snotlout, grabbed his own handful of jerky from their stores. “He’s probably just out riding, though. I know he likes to take Meatlug out to see the sunrise sometimes.”

That was true. The first time that Fishlegs had woken up Snotlout at the crack of dawn, asking him and Hookfang to come watch the sunrise with them, Snotlout had almost punched him—but he’d reluctantly come along, and he had to admit that there was something magical about swooping through the sky as the stars disappeared and the horizon turned orange as fire.

Snotlout shook his head. “I don’t think he’s just out flying…” he said.

Hiccup raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Uh…” Snotlout wracked his brain desperately for an excuse, but nothing came to him. How was he supposed to explain that he knew Fishlegs had been missing all night without telling Hiccup the truth?

He groaned, already cringing at what he was about to say.

“Hiccup, if you _ever_ repeat what I’m about to tell you to Astrid or the twins, I will personally break into your hut in the middle of the night and rip out every one of your bones.”

Hiccup eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t seem nearly as concerned as Snotlout wanted him to be. So he grabbed the front of his cousin’s shirt and shook him slightly, just to make sure his point hit home.

“Okay, okay,” Hiccup agreed, holding his hands up defensively. “My lips are sealed. Unless you’re about to tell me that you killed Fishlegs, because I really don’t think I can keep _that_ a secret.”

“I didn’t—what?”

“Kidding! I’m just kidding,” Hiccup said. “Unless you actually _did_ kill Fishlegs…?”

“What? No! I didn’t kill him, I… Shut up, Hiccup! This is serious!”

Hiccup’s face sobered up, and Snotlout let go of his shirt.

“I mean… it could be serious,” he said. He looked away, not wanting to see Hiccup’s reaction as he spoke. “Look, Fishlegs came to my hut last night and we… talked…”

“Talked?” Hiccup snorted.

“Shut up, Hiccup!”

“Okay, okay, sorry, continue.”

“We _talked_ , and he said he was going to come back to keep _talking_ , but he needed to go get Meatlug. I expected him to come back in a few minutes, but he just… didn’t come back.”

“And you didn’t go check on him?” Hiccup asked incredulously.

“I thought he just didn’t want to… talk to me anymore!” Snotlout defended himself, looking back at Hiccup.

For a second, it looked like Hiccup was going to argue with Snotlout some more. But he must have seen something in Snotlout’s face, because he backed off.

“Okay, it doesn’t matter what happened last night,” Hiccup said. “What matters is that we find him now, right?”

“Yeah,” Snotlout said. He dropped his jerky back into their provisions box and turned to Hookfang. “ _Yeah_. Let’s go.”

* * *

They ran into a groggy Ruffnut and Tuffnut just outside the clubhouse, back from their night watch, and then a bright-eyed Astrid back from her morning drills a few minutes later. Soon, all five dragon riders were in the sky, preparing to split up to search for Fishlegs.

“Snotlout and I will each take half of the island,” Hiccup was saying. “Ruff, Tuff, you guys circle the coast, okay? And Astrid, can you scout out into the ocean a ways, see if there are any ships on the horizon that might have taken him?”

“I _can_ , but remind me why we think something happened to him, and not that he’s just on a nice morning flight with Meatlug?” Astrid asked, crossing her arms.

“Because I went to go talk to him about the saddles last night, but he wasn’t home, so I thought he was on a night flight. But he still wasn’t home when I went to talk to him this morning, and Fishlegs isn’t usually one for a late night _and_ an early morning,” Hiccup said.

Hiccup glanced at Snotlout briefly as he spoke, and Snotlout gave him the most grateful look he could muster. Hiccup could be annoying a lot of the time, but at least the guy knew how to tell a convincing cover story.

“Okay, but if we find him sitting on a cliff somewhere making a daisy crown for Meatlug, you’ll do our chores for a week, right?” Tuffnut said, leaning towards Hiccup.

“What? This isn’t a bet, Tuffnut. We’d go looking for you if we thought you were missing,” Hiccup said defensively.

“I wouldn’t,” Ruffnut said.

“I wouldn’t go looking for me, either,” Tuffnut agreed.

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Let’s just go, okay? If we don’t see any sign of him within an hour we’ll meet up at the clubhouse and—”

“Guys… Did you hear that?” Snotlout interrupted.

The group fell silent as an eerily familiar screech tore through the air.

“Whispering Death…” Hiccup said.

And then all five of them were diving for the pit at the edge of the base.

* * *

“Oh, Meatlug… If I have to die, I’m glad it’s with you, girl,” Fishlegs whispered, pressing himself against Meatlug’s side. She made a low growling sound, but neither of them dared to move.

The Whispering Death that had been curled up and sleeping in their path all night had woken up.

The night before, as Fishlegs and Meatlug had been making their way back to Snotlout’s hut, they’d seen a dark shape tear across the sky. Fishlegs had recognized the sight instantly—a Whispering Death.

He’d wanted to go get Snotlout. He really had. But Whispering Deaths were fast, and Fishlegs knew that if he lost sight of this one, it might start tearing up the entire Edge before they managed to track it down again.

He was just going to make sure that the Whispering Death wasn’t causing any trouble, he promised himself. If the dragon seemed to be heading away from the Edge, he’d head back to Snotlout’s hut before the other Viking even had a chance to miss him.

And if the Whispering Death _was_ looking to tear up the Edge, he’d have Meatlug send up a distress shot, and the night watch would alert everyone else, and they’d have bigger problems to worry about than how quickly Fishlegs had made it back to Snotlout’s hut.

“Come on, girl,” Fishlegs said, swinging himself up onto Meatlug’s saddle. “Let’s make it quick.”

But of course it hadn’t been that easy.

They’d followed the Whispering Death back to the pit on the edge of their base, the one that they’d all assumed the Night Terrors had dug. Hiccup had decided not to fill in the pit in case the Night Terrors really had dug it to keep Whispering Deaths away—but now Fishlegs wished that they had filled it in.

Because it didn’t seem like the Night Terrors had dug the pit after all. Or if they had, this Whispering Death was taking it over now.

Fishlegs watched in horror as the Whispering Death dove into the pit, disappearing underground.

“Oh, Thor…”

He gave Meatlug the signal, and she sent a bright burst of lava up into the air, her Gronckle distress call. Fishlegs expected to see a burst of answering flame from the night watch tower, but nothing came. His stomach sank.

“If the twins fell asleep on night watch duty again…” he growled. But there was no time to plan the twins’ terrible fate. In the time it would take Fishlegs to go back and wake up the other riders, the Whispering Death could destroy half of the Edge.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this, girl…” Fishlegs said, and then he and Meatlug were diving into the pit after the Whispering Death.

He didn’t exactly have a plan. It wasn’t as though he and Meatlug could fight a Whispering Death all by themselves. But if he could at least distract the Whispering Death enough to draw it up to the surface, the commotion would—hopefully—wake up the other riders in time for them to come save him from his own stupid plan.

He and Meatlug dove deeper into the pit, following the sound of the Whispering Death. He would give anything for Toothless’ night vision, but at least this tunnel seemed to be one straight line, no branching paths or dramatic curves.

And then, suddenly, the Whispering Death was right in front of him. Fishlegs screamed instinctually—he hadn’t expected the dragon to suddenly stop short, _definitely_ hadn’t expected to almost run right into its wicked spiked tail.

The Whispering Death whipped around at the sound of Fishlegs’ scream and screeched, its hellish teeth inches from Fishlegs’ face.

“Meatlug, go low!” Fishlegs screamed, and Meatlug dropped to the floor of the tunnel seconds before the Whispering Death lunged at them.

They just managed to squeeze under the dragon’s body, and then they were tumbling across the floor of the tunnel. Fishlegs didn’t even pause to get back on Meatlug’s back—he scrambled for a pile of rocky debris at the end of the tunnel, Meatlug at his side.

By the time the Whispering Death whipped back around, the two of them were cowering behind the rubble. They were hidden from the Whispering Death’s sight, but Fishlegs knew that wouldn’t stop a determined dragon. There was nowhere for them to go—a Whispering Death in front of them and a rocky dead-end behind them.

At least, Fishlegs thought wildly, he wasn’t going to die wondering what kissing Snotlout would have felt like.

He closed his eyes and waited for the end.

But the end didn’t come.

Slowly, slowly, Fishlegs cracked his eyes open. Even more slowly, he peeked around the pile of debris.

It looked like the Whispering Death had lost interest in them. Instead of continuing to dig its tunnel, though, the big dragon was curled up a few feet away from Fishlegs, eyes closed.

It shifted slightly, and Fishlegs froze. But the dragon’s eyes stayed closed, and now Fishlegs could see what it was curled up around— _eggs_.

_This is a nest_ , Fishlegs realized. That was why it was just one pit—this wasn’t a network of tunnels that the Whispering Death was using to get around the island, it was a single tunnel that the dragon had used to lay its eggs.

But it wouldn’t stay a single tunnel for long. They’d all seen what the baby Whispering Deaths had done to Berk when Alvin’s eggs had hatched—even without a Screaming Death, those babies would tear the Edge apart as soon as they were born.

They _had_ to move these eggs before they hatched.

Of course, before they could move the eggs, Fishlegs and Meatlug had to move _themselves_ —as far away from this Whispering Death as possible, ideally. But there was nowhere for them to go. Sure, the Whispering Death looked peaceful now, but Fishlegs knew that trying to sneak past a nesting mother dragon was a suicide mission.

He ducked back down behind the rubble and sat down, pressing himself against Meatlug’s side.

Surely Snotlout would realize that he was taking too long. He prayed to Thor that Snotlout’s pride wouldn’t keep him from alerting the other riders—if Snotlout and Hookfang came looking for him alone, he wasn’t sure if they’d have enough firepower to deal with the Whispering Death.

He cuddled up closer to Meatlug, shushing her quietly. There was no way he was going to fall asleep, just a few feet away from a Whispering Death. All he could do was wait for Snotlout to come find him.

So he waited.

And waited.

He waited until he was sure it must be morning, although the tunnel was too deep underground to tell. Had the riders not thought to come looking in the Whispering Death pit? Or had Snotlout not come looking for him at all?

His stomach sank—and then it sank further at the sound of the Whispering Death beginning to stir.

He grabbed at Meatlug, trying to stop her from growling as the Whispering Death let out a bone-chilling screech. Was that just a normal waking-up screech, or had the Whispering Death noticed the intruders in her nest?

The mother dragon let out another screech, and then began slithering towards the debris pile where Fishlegs and Meatlug were hidden.

Okay. Definitely an intruders screech.

Fishlegs wrapped his arms around Meatlug and sobbed.

“Oh, Meatlug… If I have to die, I’m glad it’s with you, girl.”

And then the tunnel erupted with fire.

The Whispering Death whipped around, its tail knocking over some of the debris. Fishlegs jumped out of the way, leaving himself completely exposed—but the Whispering Death wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. It was paying attention to the blasts of fire raining down on it from far above.

With another angry screech, the Whispering Death dove towards the opening of the tunnel. Either Fishlegs and Meatlug were about to be caught in the crossfires of a wild dragon territory fight—or the riders had come to rescue him.

“Come on, girl, let’s get out of her while mama dragon is distracted!” Fishlegs said, grabbing for Meatlug’s saddle—and then he paused.

There was no point in escaping if the eggs stayed here. If they didn’t relocate the eggs now, they’d have much bigger problems, very soon.

“Oh, Thor,” Fishlegs muttered… and then he started picking up the eggs.

* * *

“One more blast should draw it out!” Hiccup shouted, and gave the signal.

“What about Fishlegs?” Snotlout shouted over the sound of four dragons blasting down into a rocky pit.

“We’ll keep looking for him as soon as we draw this Whispering Death away from the Edge!” Hiccup shouted back. “But if we don’t deal with this now, there’ll be no Edge to bring Fishlegs back to.”

Hiccup was right, of course, but Snotlout felt sick knowing Fishlegs might be in trouble somewhere. He should have gone looking for him when he didn’t show up last night. He’d let his stupid Jorgenson pride get the better of him, and now Fishlegs could be capture or injured or _dead_ , and they were too busy blasting at a Whispering Death hole to go find him and—

His thoughts were interrupted by the Whispering Death in question bursting out of its hole, screeching and flailing.

Okay, he could worry about Fishlegs when he wasn’t in such imminent danger.

“Whoa!” He narrowly ducked out of the way of the dragon’s tail, and Hookfang blasted it, sending it snarling and wheeling towards their base.

“Snotlout! We’re trying to draw it _away_ from our huts, not blast it towards them!” Astrid shouted.

“I’m sorry that it tried to _kill_ me!” he shouted back. “It’s called _self-defence_.”

“Argue later!” Hiccup snapped. “We need to herd it away from the island!”

Toothless sent out a bright plasma blast, sending the Whispering Death hurtling towards the sea—but seconds later it was diving back towards them. No, not towards them—towards the pit.

“Don’t let it get underground!” Hiccup shouted. “We might lose it!”

Snotlout dove low, cutting off the Whispering Death just before it could dive back into its hole. Hookfang blasted it again, and it screeched.

“Snotlout! Get out of the way!”

Snotlout looked down just in time to see Fishlegs and Meatlug barrelling up out of the Whispering Death tunnel.

“ _Fishlegs_?”

Hookfang swerved out of the way at the last second, clearing the path for Fishlegs and Meatlug to shoot straight up into the air. Snotlout stared, wide-eyed.

“You’ve been hanging out in a Whispering Death tunnel all night?” Snotlout shouted.

“I’ll explain later!” Fishlegs called down. “But first we need to move these eggs.”

“Eggs?” Hiccup called from where he and Toothless were dodging the Whispering Death’s angry tail.

“It’s a nest!” Fishlegs said. He leaned forward slightly, showing the armful of eggs he was clutching. Meatlug opened her mouth slightly, showing off her own collection of eggs. “And we need to get these babies _far_ away from here before they hatch.”

Hiccup’s eyes widened in surprise, and then understanding. “Did you get all the eggs?”

“Yes,” said Fishlegs. “Now let’s _go._ ”

“Okay, gang,” Hiccup said, darting forward as the Whispering Death tried to catch Toothless’ tail with its teeth. “Let’s relocate some eggs.”

* * *

Snotlout wanted to bombard Fishlegs with questions. How had he ended up in the Whispering Death tunnel? _Why_ had he ended up there? Was Snotlout such a bad kisser that a giant underground death dragon was a better alternative than spending the night with him?

But it was hard to have a conversation while trying to dodge the gaping maw of an angry mother dragon, so Snotlout focused on making sure that the Whispering Death didn’t eat him or Fishlegs on their way to its new home.

They were flying towards a big, mostly empty rocky island that wasn’t too far from the Edge, but far enough that the little demons hopefully wouldn’t come anywhere near the Edge after they hatched. It was the best they could do on short notice.

The flight couldn’t have taken more than an hour, but it felt like lifetimes before Hiccup was finally shouting, “Okay, guys, let’s set down here!”

Fishlegs landed first, and immediately dropped his own load of eggs in a haphazard pile. Snotlout landed beside him as he started pulling the other eggs out of Meatlug’s mouth. He jumped down from Hookfang’s back and, without pausing to give himself a chance to change his mind, started helping Fishlegs unload the eggs.

“You really couldn’t find a better way to carry them?” Snotlout asked, shuddering at the thick Gronckle saliva that instantly coated his arms.

“Gronckle mouths are very gentle!” Fishlegs said. He picked up an armful of sticky eggs and started carrying them over to the egg pile he’d made a few feet away. “Gronckles are known to carry their young in their mouths, you know. And—”

“Fishlegs, look out!” Hiccup shouted, swooping towards them on Toothless’s back. But he was too far away—Snotlout turned just in time to see the Whispering Death barrelling towards Fishlegs, its white eyes bloodshot with rage.

“Fishlegs!” Snotlout shouted. Without thinking, he dove at Fishlegs. Snotlout was small, but he’d gotten a running start, and Fishlegs had stumbled at the sound of his friends shouting his name. So it wasn’t hard for Snotlout to knock Fishlegs off his feet, and then the two of them were rolling across the rocky plateau, Whispering Death eggs clattering down around them.

Snotlout felt a blast of heat as Toothless plasma blasted the Whispering Death, and he rolled over in time to see Hookfang and Meatlug descending upon the scattered Whispering Death eggs.

“Hookfang, what are you—” And then he realized what they were doing. As a team, Hookfang and Meatlug were nudging the eggs towards the edge of the plateau, where it sloped down towards the beach.

At the sight of her eggs tumbling down the slope, the mother dragon screeched once more and then swooped after them, disappearing over the edge.

“Woo!! Good job, Hookfang! And also Meatlug,” Snotlout cheered. He tried to sit up, but he realized he was still trapped half under Fishlegs.

Snotlout’s heart suddenly leapt up into his throat. Was Fishlegs unconscious? Was he hurt?

And then Fishlegs groaned, and rolled over, off of Snotlout.

“Why does this keep happening to me?” Fishlegs moaned, pressing one hand to the side of his head.

He blinked his eyes open, and then it was that moment in the grass all over again—the two of them, inches apart, their breaths oddly in sync, frozen by the closeness of the moment.

Snotlout knew that the other riders were still swooping overhead, probably making sure that all of the Whispering Death eggs made it down the beach and away from them. They’d be back any second—they might be watching them already.

But Snotlout realized that he didn’t care.

He leaned forward, crossed those few inches between him and Fishlegs, and did what he’d desperately wanted to do in the forest the day before. He kissed Fishlegs.

For a moment, he was afraid Fishlegs was going to pull away from him—but he was only pulling him closer. They kissed, surrounded by rocks and Gronckle saliva, and Snotlout had never been happier.

By the time Snotlout pulled away, he was straddling Fishlegs’ waist. He looked down at Fishlegs, one hand on his shoulder and the other holding Fishlegs’ hand, and grinned.

“Now this is what I wanted to do last night,” Snotlout said, and Fishlegs laughed.

And then someone behind them whooped, and reality came crashing back down on them.

Snotlout groaned and got to his feet, turning to see all four of the other dragon riders landing just beside them.

“Okay, this time we’re _definitely_ interrupting something,” Astrid said.

“As a matter of fact, you were,” Fishlegs said, sitting up with a slight wince.

“Do you want us to leave you here? I’m sure that Whispering Death would make a great neighbour,” Tuffnut said.

“Hey! Pay up, everyone!” Ruffnut shouted over her brother.

“ _Pay up_?” Snotlout repeated incredulously, as Astrid and Tuffnut groaned and started pulling coins out of their pockets. “Were you guys _betting_ on us?”

“Yep! I said we’d catch you guys kissing before the end of the week,” Ruffnut said smugly.

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Snotlout shouted. “Hiccup, are they allowed to do this?”

He turned to his cousin, only to see Hiccup fishing around in his own pocket, too.

“You, too, Hiccup?” Fishlegs said, before Snotlout had a chance.

“Astrid made me do it!” Hiccup said, as the other riders dropped their coins into a grinning Ruffnut’s outstretched hand.

“Hiccup’s bet was that you two weren’t even dating, if that makes you feel any better,” Astrid said. “Personally, I thought you’d last a month. Tuffnut’s bet was that Fishlegs was dating Meatlug, and really, jury’s still out on that one.”

“What?” Fishlegs squeaked. “Don’t listen to them, girl.”

“You’re all monsters,” Snotlout said, shaking his head.

But somehow, he couldn’t find it in him to be truly mad at his friends. Especially not when Fishlegs got to his feet and immediately threw his arm around Snotlout, pulling him closer.

“Alright, well if you guys are done paying Ruffnut her dirty money, we should probably go,” Fishlegs said. “Once that Whispering Death has all her eggs together, she’s probably not going to be happy that we’re still here.”

“Yeah,” Snotlout said. “What he said.”

Astrid laughed as she climbed back up onto Stormfly. “I can’t believe you guys ever thought you were subtle,” she said.

“Shut up, Astrid. You’re just jealous that I’m not on the market anymore,” Snotlout snapped.

Astrid rolled her eyes, and then she took off, the twins and Hiccup close behind.

Snotlout glanced up at Fishlegs, whose arm was still wrapped around his shoulders. He didn’t want to pull away, even though he knew that Fishlegs was right that they needed to go before the Whispering Death came looking for them.

“Hiccup was wrong, wasn’t he?” Snotlout asked. “We are dating… right?”

“I think we have been for a while,” Fishlegs said, his face dusted slightly red. “Even though we didn’t realize it.”

Snotlout laughed, incredulous. “I think you’re right.”

And then he leaned up, still pressed against Fishlegs’ side, and kissed his big, beautiful Viking boyfriend, just because he could.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
